As Above, So Below
by Aobh
Summary: A collection of Bonnie centric drabbles in varying length. Multiple pairings. Mainly Bamon & Bonkai.
1. Home

_**Home**_ ; takes place between 6x05 and 6x06

* * *

Bonnie rouses with a start.

At once she is awake, yanked from slumber into a moving nightmare. It was odd, the sensation of moving without ones feet touching the ground. Her body was swinging to and fro and her head with it. It was unpleasant. She didn't know whether she wanted to vomit or scream. Slowly she became aware of the way her body was resting comfortably against another, tucked into strong arms and held aloft by strong legs. Heat emanated from the person and despite her weariness, the need to be comfortable had her burying her head into the person's chest. She couldn't remember anything and couldn't muster the energy to try. A dull throbbing became apparent in her midsection. Fragments of a memory ebbed through her mind with every pulse in her chest. The cave, the ascendant, Damon-

Oh! Damon.

 _Damon_.

Where was-

She remembered the light, bright and beautiful and so _so_ far away from her crumpled form. She remembered the shock and anger and that strangled _**No**_! She remembered feeling so happy for him and yet so terribly, terribly sad for herself.

The feeling was not entirely foreign, she had felt such sadness countless times since the Salvatore brothers had rolled into Mystic Falls but never had it ever been so immense. So shocking _painful_.

Her mind sighs his name, almost in goodbye because it's evident who has her now. Who's warmth she's selfishly and stupidly leeched. Whose arms cradled her so lovingly- so caringly.

Ma-la-kai.

 _It's like they_ wanted _me to be evil_.

Her eyes, squeezed shut against the motion sickness opened slowly, cautious against what she knew would be a clear spring's day in nineteen ninety-four. Her vision swam and she blinked against the harsh light. His chin, one she had once thought powerful, was the first thing she saw. Bobbing with his steady, easy strides. Though he wasn't a large man, he seemed to be carrying her with the utmost ease. His heart beat against her ear and as he breathed deeply and calmly.

She wonders if he knows she is awake. Before she knew what he had done – all of them _gone_ , all of them – she had wondered what he had thought of her. Though that feeling had diminished all together when she realised how horrible he truly, now it eased its way back into her consciousness, creeping along her warm limbs and settling into her mind. She wonders if he thinks her weak, or stupid. She supposes that in his mind, sacrificing your freedom for another's was the dumbest thing a person could do. His self-interest was too strong to understand that she _had_ to do it. That she believed in Damon enough to give him another chance.

Malakai's fingers tighten around her and though he has not looked down once, she realises that he knows she is awake.

"Your wound is almost healed."

His voice, filled with boyish humour, reminds her of another man she knew once.

Kol Mikaelson had a lot in common with Ma-la-kai. Handsome and yet so, so… _cold_.

Kai, like Kol, always sounded like he knew a secret. Arrogance and malice mixed together to form something so alluring that it became dangerous to listen to his voice for long periods of time. Had he always been like this?

"Where-" her voice cracks and she has to cough to clear her airways. "Where are you taking me?"

He doesn't respond for a moment, but as the trees begin to thin she manages to turn her head away from his chest. The Salvatore Boarding House rises in the distance and confusion washes over her. When she looks back up at him, questions dancing on the tip of her tongue, he's smiling down at her.

It isn't a very nice smile.

Aesthetically it couldn't be better. His teeth are nice, his smile inviting. But it is the way in which his eyes swim with laughter. At her. He's _laughing_ at her, _mocking_ her.

Playing _games_ with her.

A feeling of disgust washes over her, drenching her in its uncomfortable slime. She tries to roll out of his arms, wanting to get away from the false comfort he offered. Kai's grin falters for a second as he easily restrains her. He bites his lip coyly before he responds, as if it's a surprise he's been wanting to reveal for twenty years.

His smile morphs slightly. It is wolfish, now. Threatening. It dares her to argue, to _fight_.

It dares her to dis-o-bey.

"Why, I'm taking you _home_ , honey."

* * *

Words: 757

I'm editing and moving my already completed drabbles from my Tumblr wit-crit and adding new ones once they're all up. 'Home' has hardly changed, I've only worked out a few kinks here and there. Should have the others uploaded by tomorrow or Wednesday/Thursday.

Thank you for clicking/reading and please do review to let me know what you think! Have a good week.

Aobh x


	2. Gotcha

_**Gotcha** ;_ takes place between 6x03 and 6x04

* * *

The satisfaction of having hope in the face of Damon's unending misery is stifled almost at once by how _creepy_ Kai is.

From the moment he is released from being tied to the same chair that Damon had tied Mason Lockwood to all those years before – she was young and he was evil and the sun had always shone in Mystic Falls – Kai had been… _lurking_.

Oh, he baited Damon enough. Macho ego clashing and all. It would always end with Kai pushing a little too hard and Damon's hands finding themselves wrapped around his neck.

Bonnie would always find herself rushing from wherever she had been to break them up. After the fifth time this happened, she realised Kai began to count the moment Damon began to strangle him. It took her a while to understand that he was _timing_ her. Timing to see how long it would take her to intervene – it was almost like he was playing a game.

Despite this, however, he was mostly silent. He liked to observe. Often Bonnie would catch him staring at her, hands buried in a pork rinds packet as his eyes tracked her movements.

At night, when she was cocooned in blankets and staring resolutely up at the ceiling – maybe if she concentrated hard enough she could wish herself back home by sheer force of will – there would always be the lingering sense that she was being watched. It had started with the crossword, every night after it had been completed she had tossed and turned until the blankets had twisted around her legs in an attempt to emulate a boa constrictor. What had once been quite pleasant slumbers (the guest bedrooms of the boarding house were all furnished to the highest of standards, this included what she assumed to be high end nineties mattresses) had turned into what felt like a voyeuristic show. Every time she would pull the covers down and sit up to stare out of the window. There was never anyone in sight but the feeling had remained.

Now, with Kai in the house, waltzing around like he knew something they didn't, the feeling had only increased.

Being watched was never enjoyable and no matter where she was (in the shower, on the toilet, picking flowers, reading, napping, fishing with Damon down by Honoria Fell Creek) it always felt like there were eyes on the back of her head. The sensation had only been increasing tenfold and it was at precisely four fifteen in the afternoon of the never ending day of May tenth nineteen ninety-four that it came to a head. She was chopping strawberry's in the kitchen (Kai complained that blueberries were bitter and he'd never tell them how to get home if they kept making pancakes with the 'devil's fruit' on top) when she felt the hairs on the back of her head stand on end.

She was so used to this feeling that she didn't even bother to turn around. Not until a deep voice had her spinning on the spot, that is.

The knife, forgotten in her fright spun out of her grip, slicing her palm and falling to the floor with a clutter.

Kai stood in the doorway, back lent against the frame as he watched her with an almost alien curiosity. His eyes swept the length of her body with intimate familiarity before landing on the hand she had cut. It curled instinctively against the pain and her mouth twitched in what was the beginnings of a grimace.

Nervous, her throat closed and it took her two attempts to ask what he had said.

"I- I'm sorry, what did yo-?"

"I _said_ ," he began, using his back to push off from the wall as he interrupted her. "That's a sharp knife, be careful."

Her breathing hitched as he began to walk towards her. Male confidence forced his stride to become long, powerful and he had reached her so quickly it took her mind a while to catch up with the fact that he was standing very, _very_ close. He had never touched her before and the feeling of his hand – soft and large against her small fist – covering her own wounded one was so startling that she gave a yelp.

His eyes, a strange grey-blue, snapped to her mouth at the sound. He licked his lips in response.

After what seemed like a lifetime he eventually abandoned his fascination with her lips and allowed his gaze to lock with hers. The stare was oddly blank and clinical. It lacked anything resembling a human emotion.

It made her feel naked.

"Does it hurt?" He asked suddenly, voice low and devoid of any sympathy as he stepped closer to her, pressing his body flush against hers. He was far warmer than she ever thought he could be and there was something- some _pressure_ in the way his hips dig into hers as though- as though-

The hand around her fist tightens the longer she doesn't respond until the cut on her palm burns. Their foreheads practically touch as he leans his head down. His breath smells of pork rinds and something else- something coppery and bitter and when he speaks his voice is far darker than it has ever been. Gone is its joking edge. Gone is its boyish softness.

"I asked you a _question_ , Bonnie. Does. It. _Hur_ -"

One moment she's whimpering against the pain and the next moment it's gone and so is Kai.

Damon stands in front of her now, glorious in his anger and beautiful in his liberation.

His eyes are bright and blue and full of life and so, _so_ different from Kai's. Bonnie feels, rather than sees, Kai shift to the side. Her hand pulses with pain.

Damon's touch is different and more familiar than Kai's. His hands are soft, yes, but rougher around the edges. They are larger too – gentler. When he places his palm over her fist she feels immediately safe and the hairs on the back of her neck lower as she calms. Damon looks at her with the same intensity as Kai but there's an unidentifiable emotion on his face. He looks worried and annoyed and pissed off but there's something _underneath_ that. Something Bonnie hasn't seen before.

"Let's talk about unspoken rules." Damon says. His voice is hard and even though he's looking at _her_ , she knows he's talking to _him_. "I thought it was obvious, but you _don't touch her_."

Damon's head turns slowly and Bonnie follows his gaze. Kai is leaning against the counter casually, as if he hadn't just been forcefully removed by a vengeful vampire.

His gaze is locked on Damon's hand covering hers.

"Got _cha_."

* * *

Words: 1118

Thank you for reading and reviewing and favouriting. You guys are so supportive and so kind and so welcoming. To the two guests who I couldn't message personally, thank you _so much_ for reading and taking the time to review and for your support! 3

This version of _Gotcha_ is slightly different from the original. I never really liked how this was worded and I tried to fix the problems but I think I might have just made it even more rubbish. To me it just doesn't work, I can't get on board with it. It's a little longer so at least there's more for you guys. Kai is a little darker here, too which I know you guys will like.

Does it work for you? Let me know your thoughts and thank you for reading!

Hope you're all well,  
Aobh (Wit-Crit) x


	3. Take Shelter

_take shelter; takes place during 6x06_

* * *

Kai sits in the very chair that Mason Lockwood had died in with the oblivious nature of a teenage boy. In his lap lay an empty pork rinds packet and in front of him, scattered across the mahogany table, the remnants of the shattered ascendant. His eyebrows, perfectly groomed, are pulled together in concentration. He would be damned if twenty years of effort had gone to waste via a selfless witch and her vampire companion.

Everything had a loophole, even hell. If an angel could confess his sins and be welcomed back home to heaven, so could Kai rectify their mistakes and force his way back to the world of the living. He was a vengeful angel, beautiful in his malice and terrifying in his pity. A halo of unholy glory surrounded him wherever he went.

Too long had he planned, too long had he **waited**.

He was getting out of there one way or another, and if it took one dead witch – _well_. He guessed it was a waste of a pretty face. But sacrifices, he thought, must be made. She'd be a casualty of war. There was something beautiful in that. If she was so _willing_ to stay in hell in order to set the ridiculous likes of _Damon fucking Salvatore_ free, then she'd more than likely be okay with dying to let him out, he thinks.

His head turns, a slight, elegant motion, eyes travelling downwards to fall on the sprawled body of Bonnie Bennett. He had carried her back from that damned cave and dumped her body on the floor without much care. She'd wake up in a few minutes, confused and disorientated and completely at his mercy. _All that power!_ He scoffs, rolling his eyes at her weakened body. All that power and no clue how to use it. It was an insult. It was _blasphemy_.

Her power could raise hell. She could literally tear reality apart with the magic that flowed through her feeble veins. She could kill a thousand people without blinking at yet she boringly chose to do _good_. How _pathetic_.

What a _waste_.

His foot, encased in the boots he had been wearing for the past twenty years, kicks out, suddenly. Hitting the unconscious girl in the shin. She stirs slightly, legs twitching against the pain. She whimpers (pathetically, he thinks) as her limbs begin to move once more.

Kai sits on his throne above her, an avenging devil.

"See here's the thing, Bon- _ **bon**_ ," he drawls, his tone playful. She flips onto her back with much effort, panting against exhaustion and what he was sure were black spots forming before her eyes. "Your little stunt back there might have slowed me down but I'm nothing if not a patient man."

His body slides down the chair, empty pork rinds packet forgotten as he crawls his way over to her. He wants to be the first thing she sees when her vision clears. He wants to be the last thing she sees when she goes to sleep. All that she hears will be **him**. She will be encased in **his** being, burned up in that unholy fire. Where he ends she will begin. Maybe it was a blessing Damon was gone.

Now she was **his**.

He leans over her, face mere centimetres from hers. His breath, warm and invading, fans over her face and she gags against the smell of stale pork rinds. He grins, two rows of perfectly white teeth stretched across his handsome face.

"I promise you, Bonnie Bennett. I will get out of here- and _hey,_ maybe I'll take you with me. But until then," his hand reaches for her face, gentle fingers trailing down her hot cheek. "I promise you a _lifetime_ of misery."

His laugh echoes throughout the Boarding House, reaching across every room, every surface. He engulfs the place and Bonnie with it.

He is all that is and all that will be.

He is Ma-la-kai and he is _**angry**_.

 **.**

Damon wakes with a start.

He's drenched in sweat- **no** , no. Water. He's drenched in _water_. For a moment he lies perfectly still, ears straining against the blood rushing through his veins to hear the familiar mummers of Bonnie sleeping down the hall.

Silence greets him and, when he opens his eyes, it is his brother he sees, not his little witch. Stefan holds a blue bucket in his hands, water dripping from its sides. He stares at Damon much the same as he had stared at him in the mausoleum. Half awed, and half… _hesitant_.

"You wouldn't wake up. I had to throw water over you."

Damon gulps in a large breath, hands running through his wet hair as he sits up. His mind, ancient and complicated, repeats the same word as he stares at Stefan in the dim light of a new, lonely morning.

 _Bonnie Bonnie Bonnie_ _ **Bon**_ _-_

* * *

Words: 813

Edited only slightly, mainly formatting. How was the transition between Bonnie and Kai and Damon waking up? That's the only thing that rubbed me the wrong way. Thank you for the reviews, they were all so lovely. You guys are the absolute best.

Thank you again for reading and let me know what you think!

Aobh x


	4. Desire

_desire;_ takes place during 6x07, the car scene

* * *

It should have been _obvious_.

The trap, that is.

In all the shitty horror movies, the car _never_ starts. If it had been anyone else, Kai would have taken the keys out. But Bonnie Bennett was just so damn _**good**_. So trusting and naïve that the satisfaction of seeing her face drop as the car refused to start was more appealing than watching her try to run. It was just too _easy_. Even a mastermind like Kai knew when to appreciate the easy 'gets'.

As soon as his hands close around her neck, the world seemed to stop.

For a split second the only thing Kai can hear is his breathing and the deafening silence that her fear creates. Her heart beat, a swift staccato, slams against the palms of his hands as her blood pulses quickly though her veins. The effect is intoxicating and he almost forgets why he's there- why he's so _**mad**_ at her. For a moment he is consumed by her. His whole body is aflame with Bonnie Bennett. Every pore, every muscle, every _synapse_ is filled with her. He breathes deeply, her scent – sweat and fear and the power of a dying bloodline – wafts over his form and his skin heats in response.

He's talking yet through the haze of his anger (and lust?) he cannot, for the life of him, understand what he's talking about. He's sure it's scary, and odd, and terrifying and perfectly calculated to disgust Bonnie Bennett but as his head dips, the only thing Ma-la-Kai is concerned with is the _**taste**_ of her.

His nose rubs against her cheek, long lines of possession are drawn across her skin. He smiles, his lips ghosting over her neck. The heat of lust and desire covers his skin. It clouds his mind, makes him press himself against her chair to ease the tension in his crotch. It makes his head tilt further into her neck, unconsciously sniffing at her skin as though he were a dog in heat. Maybe he is.

He wants to be _near_ her. He wants to bathe in her goodness and taint it. She tries to turn her head and his hand tightens, he shushes her. Tries to _soothe_ her. Lures her into a false sense of security and comfort. His nose rubs against her cheek, down her neck.

His lips, chapped in his malice and anger press roughly against her neck. His power, red and throbbing pushes against her. Makes her whimper. He relishes the sound. His hands loosen. He doesn't want to hurt her- doesn't want to _maim_ her. Quickly, so as to make it seem as if it were a dream, his tongue darts out – licks across her flesh, laps the salty sweat and savours the taste. A groan of satisfaction sticks in his throat, deepens his breath. Two decades is a long time to go without feeling desire. Its re-emergence, quick and altogether disabling, blinds him.

It _consumes_ him.

He pulls his hand away from her neck, fingers stroking her shoulder.

Slowly. Methodically. Soothingly.

"It's time to go _home_ , Bonnie."

* * *

Special Mentions to _Mellimon_ ; may your week be calm and easy. And if it's not, here's an update to help. (:

Short but sweet. Hardly any editing. Just formatting. Hope you enjoy. Up next: truce!

Thank you for reading and reviewing,  
Aobh (Wit-Crit) x


	5. Truce

_truce; loosely takes place between 6x06 and 6x07_

* * *

It feels like he hasn't blinked in an age.

His eyes sting, tightening at the edges against the dryness but he cannot look away. He cannot tear his eyes away from the sleeping form of Bonnie Bennett. He had turned half the town upside down looking for her during the day – he had worked himself up into such a fury that by the time he had stormed his way home (homehome **home** ) he had walked straight past her. She was curled up on the couch, an old, soft looking blanket wrapped around her tightly. He knew how she liked to sleep, laying on one side with her arms – bent awkwardly, he had always thought – beneath her head as a make-shift pillow.

She was murmuring quietly, little words and sounds of distress. It's what had made him stop – made him whirl on the spot, his face bright red, his mouth practically spitting curses. His jaw had clamped shut though, upon seeing her. Their game had ended for the day as soon as her brow had dipped together and her forehead had creased in unconscious fear. He knelt before her, barely breathing. His knees ached and yet, he could not bring himself to move. He was transfixed, as he had been all those nights before as he watched Damon and her sleep.

Obsessively.

 _Po_ ssessively.

His hands clench around his thighs as he rests back on his haunches to relieve the stress on his knees. She turns, slowly, twisting her body in the sheets to rest on her back. Her face is pinched, worry pulls at her lips, tugs them taught and straight. Fear makes her hands clench the blanket to her chest.

She murmurs again, eyes twitching as she fights off another adversary in her dreams. Kai bites his lip; he _hopes_ it's him. He hopes that they are fighting, tearing at each other, screaming at each other. He likes it when she's angry. When they're inches away from one another, spitting threats and profanities. The proximity was intoxicating, just like it is now.

His hand is steady as it reaches out slowly, cautiously, as if he were afraid to wake her up. His fingers, soft and large trail down her cheek. She mummers in her sleep, pushes against the feel of human contact. His index finger dips, tracing the lines of her lips. They are full and plump and not for the first time Kai allows his mind to wander from the anger – for a fleeting second he imagines what they must feel like when pressed against another pair.

His mouth twists and he tears his hand away. He's still angry with her.

As he leaves he pinches the skin of her arm spitefully, the corners of his mouth turn upwards as she whimpers. Her eyes flutter open in confusion, focusing slowly, if not belatedly, on his form hovering over her body.

"You probably shouldn't fall asleep in the open." he said playfully, smiling down at her. "You never know what could go bump in the night."

As he turns to leave his tongue licks across his bottom lip in a leer. Bonnie watches him as one would watch a poisonous snake. Her eyes follow his form, tracking his steps.

It seems to take an age for her to blink after he is gone.

 **–**

The fire rages behind their jostling bodies. He's found her (of course, _of course_ ), cornered her after she managed to evade him for two days. She'd snuck back into the boarding house and he had been waiting in the living room by the fire, body relaxed as he lounged in a chair soaked in the blood of their adversaries.

By the time she noticed him it was already too late, his arm had shot out, pale fingers wrapping around brown skin. He yanked her towards him as though she were a doll.

Now they were pressed against one another, her shoulders digging painfully into the mantelpiece. He towered above her, divine in his anger. The heat of the fire licks her left arm and she shudders against it. He smiles.

"Wouldn't it just be easier if we were _friends_ , mouse?"

She scowls at his nickname, thinking uncomfortably about another man with blue eyes and a harsh glare who never really called her by her name either. Her hands twitch as he presses even closer, melding their bodies together until she isn't sure where he ends and she begins. Her senses are filled by him. He is all she can smell. All she can hear. All she can _feel_.

"You don't know the meaning of the word ' _friend_ '." She spits, turning her head away as he leans forward.

His nose touches her cheek and she feels him breathe deeply. Like an animal. Like a brute. Like he's checking to see who she smells like. She wonders if she smells like him. All arrogance and confidence and _malice_.

It _disgusts_ her.

It _excites_ her.

Kai is danger personified; terrifying and alluring.

His hand, warm and demanding grips her jaw, forces her head forward so that she can look nowhere but at him. Her world becomes him. She is so close to him that every grove, every line, every peel of anger is shown. Her mouth tightens, pulls taught against her face in a straight line.

"Then _teach_ me, little mouse. I'll be a good student, I promise."

He leans forward and Bonnie _knows_ what happens next. She knows that he will dip his head and their lips will connect and then all will be lost. She knows that she must fight – she must _resist_. But as he comes closer, her breath catches in her throat. Her limbs feel like deadweight, they stay resolute despite the uncomfortable heat from the fireplace.

He is Medusa and one stare from him has turned her into stone.

She doesn't remember the exact moment they connect but his lips are dry and soft and they cover hers greedily. She's as still and as quiet as a mouse in the face of a lion. He pulls back and looks at her oddly. He assesses her critically; there is no love in his wicked eyes but the light from the fire dances across them in such devilry that she cringes against the hellish vision. His chest rises and falls against hers in a rapid tempo. It makes her top rub against her nipples, causing them to stand on end. She stares; shocked and immobile.

There is something inherently wrong with this –something _bad_.

He shouldn't kiss her. That's not what _friends_ do.

His eyes close as he leans forward again. This time the kiss is scorching. It's like he's punishing her with his lips. Every time he pushes against her, a little more of his power leeches away at her soul. Heat, unwanted and confusing, turns her stomach into the core of the sun. He presses his hips into hers again and again. She's so _hot_. When did it so hot? She can barely breathe. Oh God is she already in hell? A growl builds in his throat, almost as if knows. The feel of him – aroused now against her leg causes her stomach to clench. Foreign lust clouds her vision. It makes her wet. Makes her ashamed. Her lips do not move.

After a moment (after his hunger is sated) he pulls away.

He's still too _close_.

"Aren't you _tired_ , bon-bon?" he mummers, hips still bucking against hers albeit the action now far gentler.

His breath is warm, it coats her swollen, puckered lips – makes her delirious. His very being seems to seep into her every pore.

He's trying to _take_ _over_ , she realises, panicked and immobile. He's trying to invade and control. Her hands shake.

"Eternity will go a lot quicker if we can just be _friends_."

He rubs against her, smiling and smiling and smiling and she's released from his spell. She gasps and his eyes widen at her first reaction. Her breath comes back, ragged and hitched. She hadn't even realised she'd stopped.

He's too _close_.

Why is he still so close?

"Whaddya say, kid?" he drawls, looming over her like a predator. " _Truce_?"

* * *

Words: 1356

I'm totally getting Casablanca vibes from that last line and now I totally want to write a Casablanca AU. Oh _man_.

Anyways, this is a couple hundred words longer. Edited to add a little bit more creep. Sexiness and lust and all that are my weaknesses. I can't write them very well. How do you think I did? Like it? Loathe it? Leave a review and let me know! (:

This is the last of the tumblr drabbles. So the from here on they'll be brand new. Thank you for everything!

On a side note, if you do follow me on tumblr then you'll know that I had a very cracky Bonkai idea this morning for a Harry Potter crossover. It'll probably be in drabble format (maybe a series of interconnecting ones or maybe just a full fic because I clearly have too much time on my hands) but I won't post it on _As Above, So Below_. These drabbles all happen within canon events even though they deviate slightly from the universe. They're more like 'filling in the blanks'. I'll make seperate stories for full AU's so keep a look out! (:

Thanks again and much (trashy bonkai) love,

Aobh (Wit-Crit) x


	6. Rebirth: Part One

_**rebirth**_. part one.

 _takes place after two years after Kai's demise in 6x22, while Bonnie is in the Mental Institution._

* * *

When Bonnie wakes up, she isn't drenched in sweat like she normally is.

She isn't screaming and her face isn't wet with the remnants of tears.

There's no pain in her palms from where her nails have broken skin and her jaw isn't throbbing from grinding her teeth.

When Bonnie wakes up, all is peaceful.

For a moment she shakes her head, trying to orientate herself. She's immediately suspicious of this peaceful awakening. Years of thwarting one baddie after the other had taught her to be cautious of the calm before the storm.

Her small room was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the silence had become a kind of noise. It settled in the center of her ear, a low hum of energy simmering just below the surface of the mundane.

It is to this fizzle of noise that she sits up. Her waking, though instant and without fanfare, was not entirely plausible. Something had awoken her but she wasn't entirely sure what that _something_ was.

A weak, half-moon shines dully through her gauze curtains which flutter in a slight breeze from the half open window. The light was cut through with four thick straight lines; shadows of the bars over her windows. They ruined the freedom that the moon and nature offered, slicing the light into small sections and made her room look like a prison cell. In a way, she supposed, it almost was.

She didn't like looking at them. The bars, that is. They made her feel as though she were in prison. Trapped against her will. It made her remember that she had come here voluntarily. This torture, this self-inflicted purgatory that she had forced upon herself, could easily be ended but she wasn't ready. She wasn't finished punishing herself yet. And knowing that – knowing that she could so easily end this pain but that she didn't _deserve_ it was too harsh a truth for her to spend any extended amount of time on.

Though her room was warm her skin still prickled with goosebumps as the mystery of her sudden waking dragged on. Why had she woken? What had dragged her from sleep?

There was no sound other than that strange silence. Sentient, it seemed to grow heavier around her. Deeper, almost. It pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her to quickly scramble out of bed, a sudden shot of fear making her flee. Her sockless feet slapped against the shitty hospital flooring as she walked quickly to take shelter against her door, standing flush against the cold, painted wood.

Something wasn't _right_.

Something wasn't right at all. In fact, of all the times that things _hadn't_ been right, now seemed like the most _not_ right. The most _wrong_. A tremor began in her slim hands, knocking her bony fingers against one another as fear slivered up along her spine to take hold of her body. She shook her head back and forth, stray strands of hair catching on the door jam and ripping from her scalp. She ignored the pain, instead starting a mantra as her panic rose.

"It's not real. You're safe. It's not real. You're safe."

Panic attacks had become ever more frequent. Something about her bad decisions and her loneliness and the same four walls for two fucking years. Something about the guilt that weighed on her. Something about the niggling feeling that her life was borrowed. _Something_.

"It's not real. You're _**safe**_. It's not real. You're-" she gulped, swallowing around bile that threatened to force its way up through her esophagus and onto the speckled linoleum floor she stood on.

It wasn't working. Usually the mantra helped but now, if anything, it made her worse. A light sweat formed on her upper lip and she whirled on the spot, slamming her fists against the door in fright. Again and again they pounded against the wood until the racket drowned out the strange, energetic silence that threatened to surround her like a cocoon.

"H-help!" she stuttered, tenth clenching and unclenching against the waves of fear. Not one to ask for help, the word was stilted, quiet in a way that confirmed her embarrassment. She just needed to see someone. _Hear_ someone. As soon as she could hear someone she could _un_ -hear the silence.

The hairs on the back of her neck crept up slowly, mimicking the slow rise of her panic. No one was coming. Why was no one coming? Could they not hear her? Were they not listening? Did they not care?

For a second she had the silly thought that they had all left and she was truly alone but that was stupid. The hospital was constantly manned. Someone would come. Someone _would_ come.

Wouldn't they?

As she knocked against the wood her head periodically swiveled to check behind her, certain that something was there. Of course the dull, monochromatic room was empty but it was a comfort when she realized she was alone. It was irrational she knew, there was no one in her room but after years of checking every nook and cranny of her childhood bedroom for hidden monsters, the urge to watch her back had become ingrained in her.

"Please," she moaned, pitiful and small. She was ashamed but determined. She needed to get out. She needed to get out _now_. "I know you can hear me. Please. I have to get out. Something's not right. Someone's here. Someone-"

When her door flew inwards, there was no warning.

Bonnie yelped, flying to the side and smacking her head painfully on the back wall. It would bruise, of course, but as with many of her hurts, she paid it no mind. Struggling to an upright position she swayed slightly as she walked toward the light that spilled into her room, cut at some points with the shadow of a man. She stumbled towards that solitary figure as though he were a lifeboat and she, a wayfaring sailor lost at sea.

Of course, when she looked up, it was only Steven, the night orderly who looked after her floor but to her he was an angel, offering his presence to comfort a frightened little girl. If she squinted and lied to herself (as she often did on subjects of love and friendship and loneliness) he even looked a little bit like her dad. Heart in throat she gave him a weak smile, apology dancing on the tip of her tongue.

"Steven, I'm sorry I-"

 _Got scared_.

 _Thought I was alone_.

Steven was devoid of his usual smile. In fact, as he shoved a gloved hand into the space between them stopping whatever she had been about to say, Bonnie noted that he was devoid of _anything_ , really.

The momentary reprieve from the humming silence ends and it returns with a high pitched buzz, determined to worm its way into her very soul. She cringes against the energy, grimacing as Steven watches her dead-eyed and emotionless.

The room suddenly feels very small. So small that she wondered if she turned her head to the side whether her nose would touch the other wall even though she _knew_ it wouldn't be possible.

As she tried to battle the icy fear that gathered at her navel, Steven opened his palm. In the center of his hand lay an old, battered phone. Grey and nondescript, she couldn't even tell what _make_ the thing was.

It isn't hers. They'd taken it when she first arrived, knees bent and head down, Enzo's arm slung around her slumped shoulders. She remembered that he had smelled of wood and rain and sadness and she couldn't look him in the eye when he said goodbye. But her skin still remembered the press of his fingers. The heat of his gaze. The weight of his regret and the sting of his feelings of abandonment.

Steven's voice zaps her out of her reverie, silencing the silence and offering her another brief respite.

"You've got a call." Deep and monotonous his voice rings out and part of her fear ebbs away.

Here was a voice, a silencer of the silence. Perhaps now she could put her irrational fear to rest.

With still shaking fingers Bonnie reaches for the phone, eyes darting from the offending piece of technology back up Steven as he stared fixedly at a point just past her right shoulder.

"Who is it?" she asks, skin of her dry lips stretching slightly. She aches to tear at it with her dull teeth but it was a horrible habit and the counsellor always gave her disapproving looks when she did it during group therapy.

Steven doesn't look at her. He doesn't react when her fingers close around the phone. Doesn't flinch or even lower his hand when she plucks it from his open palm and doesn't respond to her question. Instead he just repeats his earlier statement, face barely moving as he grinds out the words robotically.

"You've got a call."

Bonnie's brow furrows.

"We're not allowed to get calls outside of the allotted times." She says.

She hates how frightened she sounds, how childlike and small her voice has become. Her back burns, hairs rising and pulling against her skin as though someone was plucking them out.

Something wasn't right.

"You've got a call." Steven intones again, not moving. Bonnie swallows loudly.

As she raises the cold phone to her ear the silence seemed to pause, a long, pregnant note of static rings out until it drowns the sound of her labored breaths completely. It's so loud, this new sound, that she can't even be sure she _is_ breathing anymore. Her lungs feel flat, dead in her chest, heavy weight that has her sagging. Everything seems to slow, drawing out the moments that it takes the cold metal of the phone to press against her fevered skin until she's so uncomfortable she wants to scratch away her flesh and burn her bones.

It takes a moment for her to be able to speak. The panic and fear and the deafness from the silence all work together until she can do nothing but whisper one word.

"Hello?"

Breathy and shallow the word extends across the space between her lips and the receiver, breaking the hold of the silence and forcing everything into motion again.

Steven becomes animated, jerking as though he had been given a command. It isn't until he has a taser pressed to his side that she realized the command had been her voice. She reacts sluggishly, eyes bulging as she watches him flick the switch, pressing the two blue lines of electricity to his clothes. He drops immediately, convulsing. But his hand doesn't fall away like it should. It stayed put, keeps the voltage on his skin until her nose wrinkles at the smell of burning flesh and wool. Bonnie's mouth forms the word _stop_ but no sound comes out.

Stuck in a trancelike state she watches Steven suffer before her, guilt mounting until she thinks she may drown in it.

The silence finally closes in around her, pressing against her mind as a familiar, boyish voice rings out from the phone.

"Hey honey, daddy's home!" he laughs, long and loud and on and on until she wonders if his laugh is the only sound in the world. "Did ya miss me, baby?"

* * *

Part 1 of/?

I originally wrote this for the One Year of Bonkai Week and my followers a couple of months ago and forgot it existed! I've edited it and spruced it up a bit. Don't think I've abandoned Bonkai, I just got a bit stuck with them. They're so complicated and every word in a story with them counts. I hope you like this, I've already got most of part 2 written but I'll just upload this now. I'm not sure how many parts they'll be, I'm thinking 3 but I'm not sure. As usual, this is all AU. (:

To the Guest who I cannot reply to but who wrote a wonderful, lovely review and who prompted me to stop being rude and keep uploading: Thank you. Thank you for taking the time to write that and for inspiring me again. I can't respond to you directly so I hope you're still reading so you can see this.

Let me know your thoughts,

have a lovely day and much (bonkai) love,

wit-crit x


	7. Rebirth: Part Two

_**Rebirth**_ , part two

* * *

"I'm not mad, you know."

It's warm so the windows are rolled down, letting in a constant stream of billowing wind. Bonnie's hair flaps with the breeze, falling up, over her eyes and then down again in a constant repetitive motion. She doesn't move to tie it back. Instead, she lets the little strands fall into her open eyes and slide like daggers over her sclera. The radio is on, but at such a low volume that she constantly had to strain to hear whether she was hearing voices or a song was on.

"Well, I mean, I'm _mad_ ," he corrected, hands flexing around the steering wheel as they drove west towards Mystic Falls. "Livid, actually. But I'm not _mad_. Not in the murderous sense, anyway."

Seemingly catatonic Bonnie doesn't respond. Mouth slightly open and wide, dead eyes stared forward. If glanced to fleetingly she would almost resemble a living doll. Kai looked at her often, eyes roaming over her face, her body. Anything he could feast his gaze on, really. He looked for so long and so hard that he almost forgot he was driving. _Speeding_ , actually. The outside world was a swirl of dark greens and pockets of black, broken occasionally by the bright yellow lights of street lamps.

"At first I was like, ' _damn_ '," he muses, inching his foot off the gas so that he could cruise at a relatively harmless speed and still look at Bonnie. Her unresponsiveness was really starting to irk him. "And then I was like ' _well played_ '. And then I was like ' _ **shit**_ _how do I reconnect my head with my body?_ '"

Bonnie blinks, gulping softly. Kai's eyes, a strange grey-blue, single in on the movement. Pupils dilating at the sight of her neck expanding and shrinking. He wondered if it would expand and contract with his fists wrapped around it. The corners of his mouth tilted up into a genuine smile at the thought.

"Luckily for me, I had a plan Z." Bonnie twitched, hands spasming on her lap.

Kai gave a quick glance at the road, shifting his hands on the steering wheel to angle the car left around a bend.

"Really, I don't know why you didn't see it coming. Linking your life with Elena's was tit-for-tat. I was just bored. I knew you'd all have some dumb plan to end my life so I cooked a lil something up. You don't walk up to Mordor without an escape plan, y'know?"

Bonnie shifted in her seat, uncomfortable.

"What?" he asked innocently. "I know what a me-me, is."

"It's _meme_." Her voice is paper thin. A coarse whisper grating against her bruised vocal cords. Her breath smelt of stale sick and she almost heaved at the taste of bile stuck between her teeth and pink gums.

Kai made a show of doing a double take, gasping loudly and obnoxiously as he raised a hand to his alleged heart and squeezed the flesh above it.

"It _speaks_!"

Bonnie's gaze is still trained out of the front windshield. She said nothing more, not even as he giggled at his own stupidity.

Eventually, when he realized she would say nothing more, he childishly threw his head back slamming his foot on the break, not bothered at all by the prospect of crashing the car and killing his **hostage** guest. Bonnie jerked in her seat, unprepared her head snapped forward, tight seatbelt (courtesy of Kai) securing her body.

"Why won't you talk?" he demanded, shifting in his seat to stare at her. He hadn't even been fazed by the sudden stop. "Aren't you excited to hear how I came back? Don't you want to know how I did it?"

Bonnie, rattled by what she perceived to be a near crash, gave no indication that she had even heard him.

His hand, newly animated, shot out, grabbing the side of her soft face and tugging her head until that dead-eyed stare was finally on him.

"Is this about that dumb orderly?" he asked, pale fingers squeezing the flesh of her face. She winced, giving him the reaction he wanted. But it still wasn't enough so he dug his nails into her cheeks until she cried out, eyes finally focusing on his with agency and sentience. Heart racing at the emergence of their skin touching, he grew more excited and more agitated the longer she refused to speak. "Is it? Is it about him? It is, isn't it? _**Isn't**_ _ **it**_?"

 **.**

Bonnie couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. She couldn't do anything but listen to Kai's laugh and watch Steven as he convulsed on the floor, eyelids flickering as his eyes began to roll back into his head. She hadn't felt so useless in a long, long time.

"Well, sweetie?" Kai asked as her silence dragged on. How long could a person be tasered for before they died? Can you die from a taser? Doesn't it have a voltage outage? Would it stop by itself? "Don't you have anything to say me?"

Saliva gathered in the pit of her mouth, hot and slightly acidic. It was the only warning she received. Turning her head to the side, Bonnie bent over and spilled the contents of her stomach onto the floor. It splattered against the plastic flooring, splashing up in places to spray her feet, legs, face. Kai, in all his malevolence waited patiently for her to wretch for a little longer before interrupting.

"You know, you can end his pain." He said idly, as calmly and as matter-of-fact as if he had just told her the time. He paused, prolonging the inevitable as Bonnie straightened, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. The back of her head throbbed from where she had hit it against the wall. The smell of sick surrounded her and she felt faint.

"I just want to hear you say it." Kai said so soothingly and so sweetly that she could almost imagine his hand playing with her hair as he coaxed her into doing what he wanted. "Just once, bon-bon. I just want to hear you say you're sorry."

Something leapt into Bonnie's throat. Pushing the flesh together until she could barely breathe, let alone speak. Sorry? He wanted her to say _sorry_ and then that was it? Steven got to live? Where was the catch? Kai _always_ came with a catch.

As if he could read her mind he continued, in that same low, hypnotizing tone. "Just say sorry and I'll let him live."

Bonnie's hand, flecked with sick rose to her throat, massaging the flesh so that she could speak, _breathe_.

"If you don't say sorry I'll make him kill himself." Kai's voice lost the calm, lulling edge. He sounded like he had in 1994, hot, moist breath coating the skin of her neck as he wrapped his hands around her neck. Angry and avenging and deeply sinister. "I put a gun in his backpocket. Just say sorry and I won't make him shoot himself in the head. I promise, Bonnie."

The silence had slowly ebbed away as he talked, that strange energized pressure easing up from her shoulders. Now, at his threat, her fear spiked again. The hand that held the phone shook, fingers gripping onto the now warm metal. A deal with the devil lasted for eternity but as she looked down at Steven, the choice was obvious. It had felt like he'd been tasered for eons upon eons but in reality the electricity had only coursed through his body for seconds. There was still enough time to save him. She could save him. Like she hadn't been able to save the others.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, and she was. Sorry, that is. Sorry that she'd locked him away. Sorry that she'd left him alone. Sorry that his hurt had led to the blood of an entire coven to coat her hands. She was sorry that she couldn't just fake it. In her time at the hospital she had often reflected on her past decisions and it was that decision, the one to recreate her pain and inflict it on Kai, that had had the most disastrous of effects. "I'm sorry, Malakai. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _sorry_."

The phone disconnected with a click as Steven's hand dropped away from his body, the taser clattering onto the floor beside his twitching body. He wasn't conscious. Bonnie didn't think that he would ever be conscious again but as she watched his chest rise and fall slowly, she settled in on him still being alive as a good thing.

Forgotten, the phone slipped from her hand, crashing to the floor whole and ending in pieces, some of which skidded into her pile of sick. A door opened in her hallway, the sound of rushing feet coming nearer until there were people in white coats crowding Steven and her doorway. None of them paid her any attention, instead they checked his pulse, opened his eyes and shone lights into them. One of the people, a woman with a regulation bun and horn-rimmed glasses, turned to her at last, pulling a vial of dark liquid from her coat pocket. She shook it at Bonnie, whose own face scrunched in confusion as the woman uncorked the vial and tipped the contents into Steven's slack mouth which was being held open by another doctor.

"He's downstairs." Said the woman with the bun, already turning back to Steven and ignoring Bonnie.

As if a light switch had gone off in her head she understood what had happened. What had been in that vial and who was waiting for her downstairs. She took a moment to steal one last look at Steven before she stepped out of her (now former) doorway and turned left towards the stairwell.

She didn't look back once. Not even when Steven gasped, spluttered and moaned and began his new life. Just as hers was ending.

 **.**

"I gave him my blood. Didn't you like that? I didn't kill him. Isn't that what you give a shit about?"

Kai's fingers were holding her head so tightly that he could feel her teeth under the skin of her cheeks, hard lines pressed together as she tried to tug her head out of his grip. In response, he leeched a little of her magic away, smiling as she stilled her movements.

"Answer me or I'll take it all." He threatened lowly, smiling the entire time.

Bonnie gulped loudly. The spittle in her throat making a noisy retreat down her esophagus.

"I liked it, Kai." She answered robotic ally, submitting to his will. Her green eyes, dulled by shock locked with his. "Will he be ok?"

Kai's tongue darted out, swiping along his bottom lip at her surrender. He shifted on his seat, scooting forward to bring his face closer to hers. His breath, laced with mint, washed over her face in warm waves.

"Who gives a shit?" He answered, voice low, uncaring, hardly paying attention to the subject at hand. "Why do you care so much? I fixed him. That's it, right? That's what you care about?"

She didn't answer, not right away and when she did speak it was to ask _him_ a question instead.

"Where are you taking me, Kai?" she asked, voice soft and words slightly garbled from his harsh hold on her face.

He hummed, tightening his hold on her a fraction before releasing her head from his hold, one fevered finger at a time. He didn't mind, really, that she had ignored his question. He just wanted her to talk. He wanted to hear the voice of the woman who locked him in hell. Wanted to watch her squirm and writhe under the weight of his power. Under _him_.

"We're going home, baby." He soothed, nail of his thumb retracting from his spot embedded in her cheek to smooth across the soft skin of her face. He caught the edge of her mouth with every caress and delighted in the shudder it wrought from her.

"Mystic Falls?" she asked dumbly, momentarily distracted by the soft contact.

He laughed, rich and deep in his chest. "Of course." His mouth twisted, suddenly cruel and his voice dipped into a sneer. "Where else but that hell mouth?"

She frowned and the last of his fingers left her cheek; hands retreating back to the steering wheel so that he could restart the car. It purred to life, the vibrations rattling the bones in Bonnie's body until they knocked against flesh and against muscle and vein.

"What?" He asked, a tease in his voice as he pressed down on the gas, starting the car none too gently. "I caught up on Buffy."

* * *

I know, I know.

I suck at updating. But I've been going through some things and working through the end of my University degree and what that meant for me and my future and the loss of organised stability. Thank you for sticking with me so long, I know I'm unreliable at best and a let-down at worse. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If you have any comments, please do leave a review.

 _ **Edit**_ : There's a little formatting issue. I've changed it now, so the flashback should make sense. Let me know if it's still screwed up! Give it a little bit of time to update the document.

Much love and bonkai trash,

Aobh x


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